


Revenant

by opencirclefleet



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3376829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opencirclefleet/pseuds/opencirclefleet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noun: Revenant<br/>1.<br/>a person who has returned, especially supposedly from the dead.</p><p> </p><p>One year after the death of his Master at the battle of Jabiim, Anakin Skywalker finds himself tasked with bringing down one of the Separatist's most powerful operatives--the one rumors call the Ghost.<br/>INDEFINITE HIATUS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Probably going to change the summary at a later date because it's not very summarizing.

Rain poured down incessantly in icy sheets, cold rivulets of water soaking him to the bone, dripping down his braid and the tips of his hair, obscuring his vision. Anakin Skywalker fought with a ferocious intensity, cutting down droids left and right. Mud sucked at his boots, trying to pull him down into the muck. He struggled to move in the thick slop, nearly blinded by the rain, muscles suddenly slow and sluggish as he deflected blaster bolts. “ _Focus, padawan_ ,” Obi-Wan’s voice whispered in his mind. Something was wrong; he could feel it. But the Force was silent on this issue.

The droids were gone. The rain fell heavier and heavier, a continuous tidal wave of water drenching him, blinding him. Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin could just make out a flash of dark brown. He craned his head to see Obi-Wan leading a charge of four or five troopers towards a fallen AT-AT, a mask of determination on his face. Cold dread settled in Anakin’s stomach. _Stop!_ he wanted to shout, but his voice wouldn’t work, his vocal cords frozen by fear. He’d seen this before—he knew what happened at the end.

Obi-Wan disappeared into the walker. _Master, wait!_ Anakin struggled to move his legs, to run after Obi-Wan, but the mud stuck him in place, dragging him down deeper, deeper. _Obi-Wan!_

The last clone followed Obi-Wan into the fallen AT-AT.

_NO!_

The walker exploded.

Anakin screamed, soundless, as flames roared around him, the oppressive heat burning his lungs with each intake of breath as chunks of twisted metal rained down. Fire and water came together, burning and drowning him at the same time. The mud pulled at him faster, tugging at his knees, his waist, his torso, until finally his head was dragged under.

Darkness pressed in on all sides, shadows pushing up into his nose, his mouth, choking off his air supply. Sharp pain lanced along his body, white-hot against his mind _. “Anakin, help me!”_ Obi-Wan’s voice cried as the darkness pressed further. Agony consumed his body, waves of fear, hate and anger tearing into his mind.

“ _ANAKIN!”_

He gasped awake, trembling in the dark with the word “Master” on his lips. Instinctively, he reached out for the thread of Force binding him to Obi-Wan, recoiling when his mind met only empty space. For a brief, terrible moment, Anakin feared he was still trapped in the nightmare, darkness surrounding him, cold and wet. The multi-hued lights of late night Coruscant filtered through to his panicked mind, reminding him where he was and who he was with. Anakin relaxed against the pillows with a shuddering breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. He laid still with an arm over his eyes, waiting for his heart to stop pounding against his ribs, for his breathing to even out—for Obi-Wan’s pained, accusing voice to stop ricocheting in his head.

 _I’m sorry, Master,_ he thought, the back of his eyes burning with guilty tears, _I’m so, so sorry._

The weight lying next to him shifted. “Anakin?” Padme’s sleep-roughened voice was laced with concern. Anakin rolled onto his side and buried his head in the crook of her neck, wrapping his still-shaking arms around her waist.

Her arms immediately came up and hugged him to her. One hand gently stroked through his sweat soaked hair. “Obi-Wan again?” she murmured. He nodded against her shoulder. Padme sighed, reluctant to say what was on her mind. “Ani…”

“I know,” Anakin bit out, swallowing hard, “I just—I know.”

Padme relented, keeping a steady rhythm of her hand running comfortingly through his hair. They stayed that way as the early morning sun filtered in through the tall apartment windows, silently mulling over their own thoughts, until the chirping of Anakin’s comlink pulled him away from his wife’s arms.

“Skywalker here.” Anakin clicked his comm on to the privacy setting as Padme got up and started dressing, pressing the device against his ear. Ki-Adi-Mundi’s voice crackled over the comm.

 _“Skywalker,”_ his former master said brusquely, “ _The Council is requesting your presence for an emergency debriefing.”_

Anakin restrained himself from groaning aloud; he’d only returned from the two weeks long battle on Christophsis late last night, that specific Republic victory being the latest in a long, long list of battle fronts he’d been on in the last month. It was the first time he had been on Coruscant in weeks, and now he was being reassigned within hours of leave. Typical. “I’ll be there shortly, Master.”

“ _Anakin,”_ Ki-Adi’s softened voice stopped him from crushing the end call button, “ _I’d like to speak with you before the briefing. Where are you?”_

Padme raised an eyebrow at him as Anakin stuttered out an excuse, “Actually, um, I’m out of the temple right now. I left this morning to run a few…errands.” Anakin winced. He’d been supposedly running “errands” the past three times he’d been on Coruscant. “I’ll be back in about ten minutes.”

If Ki-Adi noticed anything unusual about his whereabouts, he refrained from mentioning it. “ _Very well then. I shall meet you in the Great Hall in ten minutes. Mundi out.”_

The call ended from the other line. Anakin sighed heavily, flopping back down into the bed. From the other side of the room, Padme cast him a worrying look, twisting her hair up into an elegant style in front of a large, stylized mirror. “Master Mundi?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the plush pillows smushed against his face. He rolled over, sighing again. “The Council wants me for an emergency debriefing.”

Padme glanced at him in the mirror, pinning an errant curl into place. “You’re being deployed again, aren’t you?” she asked calmly, trying not to let her disappointment show with a well-practiced, carefully neutral expression. She cursed internally as a fine tremor shook her hand, dislodging one of her intricate pins.

 “Sure sounds like it.” Padme bit her lip. It wasn’t Anakin’s fault he was being reassigned so quickly. They were at war; they knew sacrifices that had to be made. But that didn’t soothe her worry for her husband, nor ease her aggravation with the Jedi Council.

Padme was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t noticed Anakin approaching until he was right behind her, jumping a little as he smoothed his hands down her arms in a soothing gesture. “You’re upset,” he murmured apologetically, “I can sense your frustration.”

Padme frowned as her husband enfolded her in a hug. “You haven’t had so much as a day off in weeks!” she growled, “You just got home from a month long tour last night, how can they reassign you so soon?” She turned around to face him, knowing the answer before Anakin even opened his mouth.

“We’re losing Jedi faster than the Council wants to admit. Even being back a night is longer than necessary. I could have been redeployed immediately from the last battle.” He cupped her face in his hands, smiling, “At least I got to see you,” he added, pressing their lips together. Padme sighed into the kiss, her vexations melting away just a little. She allowed Anakin to continue for a minute before pulling away, regarding him with a tender look.

“You should go,” Padme mumbled, “The Temple’s ten minutes away; you’re already late as it is.”

Anakin pecked her one last time on the lips, a boyish grin crossing his features. “Bet you I can make it in five,” he whispered conspiratorially, causing Padme to giggle.

 “Be safe,” she urged, sobering as she gripped his hand tight before sliding hers out from his.

“Aren’t I always?”

* * *

 

It was raining by the time Anakin parked his speeder in the Temple hangar. He climbed out, hair plastered to his head from not having the foresight to wear his hooded cloak with him in his rush to get to 500 Republica last night, pushing away memories of a different rain on a different planet. Coruscant, at least, had the potential of sunny days more than five times a year. Anakin nodded a greeting to the mechanics and flight crews hard at work in the hangar bay, getting a few smiles and nods in return. He knew a good chunk of the crews personally, having spent many a sleepless night or anxious day repairing or modifying the _Twilight_ or the latest model of star fighter he had yet managed to blow up. Most of the mechanics passed him by, though, busy with repairing as many ships as possible for the war effort.

It was only a short distance from the main hangar to the Great Hall. When he had first arrived at the Temple, the austere building’s main entrance was always buzzing with energy, filled with passing Knights and padawans, Masters conversing quietly, loud, giggling younglings on their way to sabre training or the Room of a Thousand Fountains to practice meditating. Now, after two years’ worth of war, it was nearly silent, the enormous walls echoeing the slightest sound. Only a few Jedi roamed the halls at their leisure, the majority of the time having to rush to catch a departing battle cruiser or late to a mission briefing. The Force was heavy with loss in this particular section of the Temple.

Ki-Adi-Mundi was waiting for him in the Grand Hall as promised. His former Master smiled at him as he approached. “Knight Skywalker,” he greeted.

Anakin gave a sketchy bow, respectful for a Master of the High Council but casual enough for someone he was familiar with. “Master,” he acknowledged. They turned down the hallway that led to the Communications Center. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“How are you, Anakin?” Ki-Adi asked abruptly. The inquiry wasn’t an unusual question, but for two men in the midst of war, it was a little out of the ordinary.

“Um…fine, Master.” Anakin wondered briefly if Ki-Adi somehow knew about his nightmare, but he shook the thought aside. Their bond had been tenuous and fragile during the few months of his new apprenticeship, and they had dissolved it after his knighting. Unless Anakin was broadcasting his dreams during his sleep, there was no way Ki could see into his mind so easily.

 “Hmm. I thought I sensed a disturbance through your shields.” Ki-Adi quirked an eyebrow at him, and Anakin nearly winced; his shielding (or lack thereof) had been a familiar topic of discussion during the months of his apprenticeship, his Master constantly chiding him for letting his stronger emotions and thoughts bleed through. His shielding must have slipped while he was asleep.

“It was just a nightmare,” Anakin said calmly, shoving away any details of his dream.

Ki-Adi glanced at him dubiously. “And what would the nature of this nightmare be?”

For a moment, Anakin considered lying, brushing it off as just another post-war reaction. But he knew Ki-Adi would be able to tell the truth. “Jabiim,” he said at last, reluctance coloring his tone. It was all he needed to say.

He frowned as he sensed the exhaustion emanating from his former Master, silently belittling himself for not just shutting up in the first place. They had been over this many times before. “Dreams pass in time,” Ki-Adi said carefully, a neutral expression on his face.

“Not this one.” Anakin knew he was fighting a losing battle, but he couldn’t help the need to defend himself. Arguing was pointless. He knew that. It solved nothing, did not remedy the consequences of past mistakes, and only served to further the grief he had buried a year ago.

“Anakin,” Ki-Adi sighed, and Anakin was painfully reminded of that same exasperation coming from Obi-Wan, “The Council is worried about you. Master Kenobi has been dead for more than a year now, and you have yet to let your attachment to your former Master go. He’s with the Force now, padawan. You must learn to let go.”

Anakin ducked his head, tasting bitter resentment for Master Mundi, for the Council, for the blasted war that took Obi-Wan from him. “I try, Master.”

Ki-Adi sighed again as they finally neared the data room. “I know you do, Anakin.” He palmed open the door, revealing several Council members crowded around a holotable. Mace Windu, Adi Gallia, and Master Yoda all looked up at they entered, exchanging glances at the sight of Anakin’s stormy expression.

“Masters,” Anakin’s voice was still strained as he nodded at the group, “Am I here for a mission briefing?”

“Of sorts,” Mace Windu frowned at his obvious frustration, but made no comment otherwise. “For the past few months, Republic intelligence has been gathering information about an enemy operative called the Ghost.”

Anakin frowned slightly. “Yeah, I’ve heard the name before.” Tales of the Ghost’s exploits had travelled through the clones and non-Jedi commanders in the thick of the war zone, whispers of a mysterious new Separatist soldier travelling fast among Anakin’s troops. An apparently unstoppable force, the Ghost was so aptly named due to the rumors that followed each attack—appearing out of thin air, the Ghost left no survivors and had yet to be picked up by holocams in the victim ships.

“So far, the Ghost has been accredited with over three dozen Republic loses, including two whole star systems, three planetary masses, and five fleets in the Outer Rim,” Windu continued, “Until recently, there has been no evidence of the Ghost’s existence besides rumors.”

“Because of the whole ‘no survivors’ deal?”

“Precisely,” Adi Gallia joined in, “All footage from attacked ships was either wiped or destroyed, and without a visual, we cannot prove such a being exists.”

Anakin filled in the rest. “So let me guess. We found footage?”

Windu nodded. “Two days ago, Master Farina’s fleet was attacked in orbit around Kelada,” he said gravely, “She and her padawan were killed when their ship was boarded. Moments before the cruiser was destroyed, we received this transmission from the ship.”

A holoprojection flared appeared on the table, depicting a lightsaber battle between Master Farina, her Nautolan padawan, and another being, whom Anakin assumed was the Ghost. Windu paused the projection when the being in question was in full view. The Ghost was definitely male, broad-shouldered and compact in comparison to a typical humanoid female. Anakin couldn’t tell what species he was, other than the obvious humanoid deduction. Besides a sleeveless cloak, the Ghost wore a mask that obscured his facial features. All Anakin could see was the pattern of the mask and the black-glassed visor. Beneath the cloak he wore armor similar to the Mandalorian style, kama, gauntlets and all, with the hexagonal logo of the Separatists painted on his left shoulder piece and a circle and two three-pointed spikes on either side on his right—the symbol of the Sith.

“One of Dooku’s underlings?” Anakin guessed, noting the red blade hovering frozen in the projection.

“Perhaps. Of this, we are not certain,” Master Yoda rumbled, “Clouded, the Force is, surrounding the mystery of this new threat.”

Anakin nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

Windu tapped on the holotable controls. The holoprojection changed, now depicting a planet surrounded by several moons. He pointed out a red dot resided in the upper hemisphere. “Master Farina’s flag ship crash landed somewhere within these coordinates. We need you to find it and recover any other data that survived. It could give us more knowledge on our new enemy.”

“Understood, Master. I will depart immediately.”

“Skywalker,” Ki-Adi said, “One last thing—“

Before he could continue, the door slid open, and a Togruta youngling rushed in. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen, the montrals and lekku on her head still short and undergrown, lacking a padawan braid. Her breathing was hard and erratic, suggesting that she had run here from halfway across the Temple.

She bowed low at the waist, respectful for the most senior members of the High Council. “Sorry I’m late, Masters,” she gasped, “What did I miss?”

The Council members all exchanged glances again before Ki-Adi-Mundi cleared his throat awkwardly. “You missed the mission debriefing, padawan. You will need to be filled in by your Master at a later time.” The youngling looked expectantly at Anakin, beaming. Anakin, for his part, froze on the spot, his mind making the connection between the exchange. _He can’t be serious._

“Anakin, meet your new padawan, Ahsoka Tano.”

* * *

 

Quinlan Vos picked at the blood encrusted on his fingers, the din of Asajj Ventress and Sora Bulq arguing in the distance barely registering in his mind. He’d just returned from executing one of Dooku’s many “allies”—a snotty junior princeling with delusions of grandeur too foolish to realize when he was being played—whose purpose had long since been extinct. The mission had become far dirtier than he had been expecting when the princeling’s meddling body double had given him the slip, but it hadn’t mattered. Quinlan’s orders had been to assassinate the princeling. It hadn’t mattered who got in the way as long as the orders were followed through.

After he had completed the mission objective, Dooku had ordered him back to his palace on Serenno to regroup with a couple other Dark Acolytes and plan for the next attack. “If you two are finished,” Quinlan interrupted the argument heating up between the two Dark Jedi, “I believe we have business to get down to.”

Bulq leaned back smugly in his seat, smirking; Ventress glared at him, eyes blazing with fury. “Stay out of this, Jedi,” she sneered. Out of all the acolytes under Dooku’s command, Ventress held the most animosity towards him. Being the latest in quite a few Knights to leave the Order, Quinlan had no doubt it was his recently former status as a Jedi that inflamed her hatred for him.

Ever the rebel, he couldn’t help but return her affections. “Sorry, doll, didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” he smiled innocently.

Ventress stood, her chair scraping against the stone floor as she pushed back from the table. Her hands rested lightly on her lightsabers, eyes narrowed to slits. “Jedi filth—“

“Enough,” Dooku cut in, turning from his position at the large, green-tinted window overlooking the expanse of his castle. With a pointed look in her direction, Ventress slunk back down into her chair, scowling at the far wall. “We will begin once our last party arrives. His insights are very important to the strategies of our next move.”

Both Quinlan and Ventress went quiet, silence permeating the room. Quinlan studied the two other acolytes seated near him. Sulking, avoiding each other’s gazes, they looked almost…nervous was too weak of a word. Apprehensive, perhaps. He wondered who the last party consisted of, if it was another apprentice or a leading member of the Separatist party.

 _Or the Sith Lord,_ Quinlan’s mind filled in, but he shoved the thought aside. The Sith Lord he had originally been after had proven himself to be a puppet master, pulling strings behind the scenes and letting others do the dirty work for him. If anything, he would call via holocomm, but even that was a stretch, let alone to appear in person.

Quinlan didn’t have to wonder for long. Within a few moments, the doors to the main entrance slid open revealing the final party. A man in red and black armor walked in, his black cloak swirling behind him. His face was obscured by a black mask accentuated with red and silver designs. Quinlan recognized him from holotransmissions and cruiser databanks that he had been tasked to wipe clean, though they had never actually met—Dooku’s right hand man and perhaps most powerful acolyte, the being whom rumors and the Holonet had nicknamed the Ghost. Quinlan very nearly shuddered at the Dark Side energy roiling off of him in waves. It only took a moment of trying to dive past the cloud of shadows and darkness surrounding the Ghost when he realized something off about him.

The man had no Force signature.

Quinlan didn’t have much time to worry about this new information, as Count Dooku stood up as soon as the man entered. There was almost an air of pride to his expression. “I’d like to introduce you to another apprentice of mine,” he began, speaking to Quinlan though his eyes were on the newcomer, “Quinlan Vos, meet Lord Malus.”

Quinlan nodded in greeting to Malus, feeling the Force around him swirl with unease. Malus reached up and curled his gloved fingers around the edges of his mask, tugging it off and revealing his face to the stunned ex-Jedi.

“We’ve met before,” Obi-Wan Kenobi’s golden eyes regarded Quinlan disdainfully, “Hello, Quinlan.”


	2. Chapter 2

For a man supposedly dead a year past, Obi-Wan looked good. His previously shoulder length hair was now cropped close to the back of his neck, blue-gray eyes shot through with Sithly yellow and dark with shadows. His face was thinner, gaunt and hollow. A faded white scar ran from his bottom lip down to the top of his chin, disappearing beneath his beard. Quinlan couldn’t help but stare.

Quinlan had been one of the first to know of Obi-Wan’s death. He had been in the Temple when Obi-Wan’s name was put on the KIA roster. He had mourned for and let go of his friend, had stood silently at the funeral, could still remember the oppressive atmosphere as Jedi, Senators, and friends of all kinds gathered around an empty pyre  to grieve the loss of one of the Order’s best and brightest. Explosions typically left little of the dead to burn; no one had questioned it when there hadn’t been a body to send back to the Temple.

Now he knew why.

“Lord Malus,” Quinlan managed, sounding dazed and strangled even to himself.

Obi-Wan nodded to him and slid into a seat on the opposite side of the table, pushing back the cowl of his hood with one hand. “I apologize for being late,” he said to Dooku, “The Republic fleet over Kelada took longer to dispatch than anticipated.”

“And the General in command of the fleet?”

“The Jedi Farina  proved to be a more powerful adversary than previously thought, but both she and her padawan were defeated,” Obi-Wan delivered in a flat, dead voice, “We have taken control over the planet, therefore we control the entire Kelada system.”

“Excellent work, Lord Malus.”

Obi-Wan nodded, seeming vaguely disinterested in the proceedings around him. He hadn’t looked at Quinlan since his arrival—likewise, Quinlan hadn’t stopped looking at him, his mind still struggling to comprehend his long-dead best friend’s return from the dead.

 Dooku continued, “The Republic is claiming a victory over the battle of Christophsis. With the important mines on the nearby moons, we cannot allow that to happen. General Loathsom has been in contact. According to him, our forces are still strong enough to wipe out the Republic defensive.”

Obi-Wan tapped his fingers against the polished wood in what appeared to be bored annoyance. “Whorm Loathsom is a fool and a pathetic excuse for a general. Even with as many droids as he has now, he couldn’t fight his way out of an elevator.”

“Be that as it may, his offensive tactics have proven to succeed in practice.” Dooku seemed almost amused by Obi-Wan’s obvious distaste for the Kerkoiden general.

“I’ve seen his strategies in action before. He’ll lose to the Republic before the week is out, I’m sure.”

“Do we know who is leading the Republic defensive?” Sora Bulq asked.

“It had been confirmed that General Ki-Adi-Mundi is the Jedi in charge.”

“I stand corrected. Less than a week,” Obi-Wan quipped. There was no hint of his usual dry humor in his voice, no teasing smile quirking his lips or spark of life in his eyes. Passive tone, blank expression. This was not the Obi-Wan Quinlan had once known—even without the obvious cloud of Dark Side clinging to him like a shroud, Quinlan could see an immense difference between his friend Obi-Wan Kenobi and the Dark Lord Malus. If someone had told him years before that Obi-Wan would one day be aligned with the Sith, well…suffice to say, he would have thought them insane.

Out of the corner of his eye, Quinlan saw Ventress’ lips twitch in amusement at the comment. Last he had heard Ventress had hated Obi-Wan’s guts from their first battle on Ohma D’un; he couldn’t imagine what their relationship was like now. Ventress leaned forward, spreading her hands on the table. “Let me handle the situation on Christophsis, Master. I can have Christophsis completely under our thumb before the Republic can take it back. We—“

“We cannot afford to lose the sector’s valuable mines because of Loathsom’s incompetence,” Obi-Wan interrupted, ignoring Ventress’ murderous glare boring a hole in his head, “I’ve had experience with Mundi’s battle tactics. I know how he works; I can counter the Republic’s moves before they even make them.”

“I’m sure you would. No,” Dooku said sharply, “Ventress, you will deal with Christophsis. Be sure we do not lose it.”

Ventress shot a gloating smirk at Obi-Wan from across the table. “I will leave immediately, my Lord.” She stood and bowed to Dooku, brushing past Obi-Wan with a haughty grin. The former Jedi regarded her with a cool stare, but made no other argument with Dooku.

Dooku waited until Ventress swept out of the room before turning back to Obi-Wan. “I have a much more important assignment for you, Malus.” He tapped the projection button for a holoscreen. A display of a large monastery formed like one of the Jedi Temple’s spires flickered to life. “The Republic controls a vital outpost on the jungle planet of Devaron—the Temple of Eedit.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “A Temple? I’ve never heard of a Temple anywhere near that sector.”

“Well you wouldn’t, Quinlan snorted. Dooku, Sora and Obi-Wan turned to look at him, and he realized he hadn’t uttered a word since Obi-Wan’s entrance had caused him to go into a shocked stupor. He cleared his throat and continued, “It’s new; they started construction last year. And it’s not really a Temple, it’s a military base. The Temple part is just a front so people won’t ask questions.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him, his eyes glinting—dangerous, predatory. “My information never mentioned construction of a new Temple,” he said slowly, his expression still passive.

“Well, then your information is outdated.”

Every unspoken thought and question hung between them, a year’s worth of lies and betrayal charging the air. Gold eyes met brown in a battle of wills, the Force swirling agitatedly around them. Then Obi-Wan relented, leaning back in his seat. “Fair enough.”

Dooku watched the exchange with interest. “The Devaron system is in the same sector as Kelada. It is essential to take control of that corner of the galaxy. With the Kelada System now under our command, capturing Devaron will give the Separatists control over the entire Duluur Sector. Take the Temple by any means necessary.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head. “It shall be done, my Lord.”

“I have no doubt that it will,” Dooku smiled grimly, waving a hand at the three men, “Dismissed.”

All three remaining acolytes bowed to the Count as he got up. Dooku left first, with the acolytes trailing behind him. He started up towards a long flight of stairs that led to his private quarters, while Sora turned the corner and was soon out of sight. Only Obi-Wan and Quinlan remained.

Obi-Wan had his back to Quinlan as he strode in the direction of the hangar bay, ignoring him. Quinlan grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and spun him around. “Alright, _Malus_ , spill. What the hell happened to you?”

Obi-Wan blinked at him calmly. “Quinlan,” he said, “I see your conversation skills have remained as tactful as ever.”`

“I see you’re still as evasive as ever,” Quinlan snorted, “Although the whole ‘Dooku’s apprentice’ thing is new. Care to explain?”

A gloved hand reached up and pried Quinlan’s fingers from his cloak; he hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been holding onto to Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I don’t believe I have to explain anything,” Obi-Wan replied smoothly, “It’s been a while since we’ve last met. Things have changed.”

“But a _Sith?_ You’ve always been full of surprises, Obi-Wan, but I never expected to see you go Dark Side.”

Obi-Wan’s cold demeanor softened, a frown brushing his lips. “I haven’t gone by that name in a long time,” he said quietly, looking distant. Then his eyes hardened and he bit out, “And you’re one to talk. You can’t very well judge me when you’re in the same position as I am. ”

Damn him, he was right. They were in the same boat now; Quinlan had welcomed the Dark Side just as much as Obi-Wan had. The only difference between them was that one of them had practically been the posterboy for the Jedi Order since day one, the other had been heading down this past for a long while now. “I didn’t say I was judging you, I just said I wanted answers! You’ve been gone for more than a year, completely KIA off the radar! Everyone thinks you’re dead; no one knows what happened to you.”

Obi-Wan froze, and for a moment, Quinlan was afraid he had struck the wrong nerve. Eyes closed, Obi-Wan shook his head and turned away. “No,” he whispered, so soft that Quinlan could barely hear it, “They don’t.” And with that he stalked away, black robes swirling behind him.

* * *

 

 The ship thrummed under his feet, the drone of the active hyperdrive a low buzz in his ears. Anakin lay flat on his back under his starfighter, absently tinkering with the inner mechanics as his mind whirled in a conflicted maelstrom. Working with mechanics had always seemed to help calm him down. He had all the pieces laid out before him, could see what was broken and what needed to be done, and then fixed it. There was no conflict of emotions and people. It was all logic and skill, what needed to happen where. It helped, being able to repair the damage, knowing he could at least fix _something_ in his life. It was his go-to solution for when the Force threw yet another obstacle at his head.

He sighed, pulling his hand back from the loose wiring. Angry as he was, Anakin couldn’t find it in himself to blame the girl. It wasn’t often that the Council assigned a padawan to a Knight without their knowledge, but it wasn’t unheard of either. Even less so now, with so many Jedi dying in the war and so many younglings that needed masters. The Order had already lost too many; they couldn’t afford to send any away to the Agri Corps. In theory, their reasons for assigning him Ahsoka made perfect, logical sense. Anakin had never been one for excusing the Council’s actions because of logic, as Ki-Adi knew all too well.

_“A padawan!” he’d practically screeched, ignoring the disapproving look from his former Master, “How could they give me a padawan without my consent? I never asked for one!”_

_Ki-Adi raised an eyebrow at him. “Would you have ever asked for one?”_

_Anakin ignored him and continued to pace around their quarters in agitation, growling, ““What do they think they’re doing, bringing a youngling into a war? She’s not ready for battle, Master—she’ll get captured, she’ll_ die _. And for what? Because the Council made me take her! It’s bad enough that they don’t trust me. Now they want to control my Knighthood, too?”_

_“Anakin, the Council doesn’t—“_

_“Kriff the Council!”_

_“Anakin, calm yourself,” Ki-Adi barked, his patience obviously stretched thin—a familiar sight between the two of them. Anakin stopped moving, though his face still betrayed the anger that lay beneath the surface. Ki-Adi sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “The Council does trust you, my former padawan. We have made a decision with the intent that it will benefit you. Maybe it is time to try to trust the Council.”_

_Anakin stood stock still, practically vibrating with anger. “The Council has been wrong before.” Both men fell silent, tension heavy in the air._

_“Anakin…” Ki-Adi sighed. They’d had this conversation before._

_Anakin avoided his gaze, knowing he’d find disappointment in the blue depths. “It’s true,” he muttered._

_“Just—give her a chance,” Ki-Adi said after a pause, “One mission. That is all I will ask.”_

_“Fine,” Anakin growled through clenched teeth, storming out of their quarters._

Anakin had avoided his former Master for the rest of the day in what Obi-Wan would have deemed as an epic sulk. His anger and resentment had faded somewhat by the time the _Resolute_ was scheduled to take off, allowing a somewhat civil conversation between him and the youngli—his padawan.

 _Padawan._ The word echoed in his head, scratching at the back of his mind. Ahsoka Tano boisterous, headstrong, and eager for a fight—all the more reason he wasn’t ready to teach another lifeform. Anakin knew he possessed the same qualities—hell, they’d saved his skin more than a few times—but that was different. That was knowing his strengths, using them to his benefit. That wasn’t trying to teach another to tame emotions he could barely control himself.

Deep in his thoughts, Anakin didn’t notice his ungloved hand nearing a particularly sharp component until it had sliced his thumb. “Kriff!” he swore, snatching his hand away and bringing it to his lips.

He slid out from under the fighter, grabbing a nearby rag and pressing his thumb against a relatively clean section of cloth.  The calm, blissful silence of an empty hangar bay—a rare, blissful event one a military cruiser—was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps and a girlish peal of laughter. Ahsoka turned the corner, apparently deep in the midst of a story, followed closely by Rex.

“—and then by the time we got to the Temple refectory, Barriss had already—oh, hi Master Skywalker!” The youngl— _his padawan—_ stopped in front of his makeshift workspace with a grin, “Captain Rex was just giving me a tour of the ship.”

Anakin glanced up at the girl, then at Rex. His second-in-command appeared both at ease yet vaguely uncomfortable with the cheery young padawan by his side. In an army fought with almost all men like him, Ahsoka was an outlier. “I hope you didn’t pull Captain Rex away from any of his duties to do that.”

“No sir, I’m technically off duty at the moment,” The clone in question glanced warily between the two, sensing the change in his General’s usual demeanor. “Sir, with all due respect, I thought you said you’d never have a padawan?”

Climbing to his feet, Anakin shook his head. “There’s been a mix up. The youngling’s only with us for this mission and then she’s being reassigned.”

 “Stop calling me that!” Ahsoka crossed her arms, smirking, “The Council decided to make me your padawan. You’re stuck with me, Skyguy.”

Anakin whirled to face her, ignoring Rex’s muffled chuckle. “What did you just call me? Don’t get snippy with me, young one. You know, I don’t even think you’re ready to be a padawan in the first place.”

“Well Master Yoda thinks I’m ready, and so does the rest of the Council.” She stuck her hands on her hips in a smug ‘so there’ move.

The very mention of the Council after his and Ki-Adi’s fight sparked a blazing anger in him. “Yeah, well first lesson: the Council isn’t always right, and sometimes they kriff people over to get what they want,” Anakin spit with more venom than intended. Ahsoka, sensing the negative emotions rolling off of her new Master in waves, back down, shocked at such a vicious stab at the Order’s wisest and most powerful members. Rex shifted uncomfortably, not quite knowing how or if he should respond. The hangar bay filled with a tense quiet that was, thankfully, broken a moment later by the beeping of Anakin’s comm. He took a deep breath and clicked the receiver, his eyes still connected with Ahsoka’s. “Skywalker here,” he muttered.

“General,” Admiral Wulff Yularen’s voice said crisply, “We are entering orbit around Devaron. We should make planetfall in minus ten.”

“Very good Admiral. I’ll be up in a second. Skywalker out. ” He clicked off the call and looked back to Ahsoka, who was noticeably quieter than when she had first arrived. “We’re about to search a shipwrecked cruiser,” he said quietly, “Not many people survive that. There’s going to be bodies, maybe worse. I don’t know what they taught you at the Temple, but brace yourself. Seeing the effects of war can be hard the first time around.”

Ahsoka nodded, eyes downcast. “Yes, master,” she murmured, turning to leave the hangar with considerably less enthusiasm than when she had entered. Anakin watched her go before turning to Rex, still standing by his side, uneasy at the conversation he had been privy to.

“Keep an eye on her, will you? I don’t want her getting into trouble on my account.”

“Understood, Sir,” Rex agreed, “I’ll watch the kid, don’t worry.” He gave a sketchy salute and began to head towards the exit, taking his helmet from under his arm and pulling it on.

“Rex?” He turned to see Anakin staring absently at the cloth in his hands, as if he wasn’t seeing it, “If something happens to me while she’s nearby…get her out of there. She’s your first priority. Get her out, and get her as far away from me as possible.”

“Sir?”

Anakin’s hand unconsciously squeezed the cloth in his fist. “Let’s just say there are things padawans shouldn’t have to watch their masters go through.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. This one took a lot longer than I thought it would, and is also not as good as I had hoped I could write it. (I still don't feel like I wrote Ahsoka correctly. *sigh*. Oh well).
> 
> I have a blog at open-circle-fleet.tumblr.com if you're interested in Star Wars and potential updates on how the story is coming along. Feedback is always appreciated! : )

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a little experiment I'm doing. I think I've always wanted to do a Dark Obi-Wan fic but have never really known how to pull one off until now.  
> Thanks to kablob, carrots-of-the-pirrabean, and skygawker for their assistance with a naming issue and kablob for the title (and google for letting me know what it meant :P)


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